


Puzzled

by FancyMeetingYouHere



Category: GOT7
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Meeting in a Coffee shop, cute boys being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyMeetingYouHere/pseuds/FancyMeetingYouHere
Summary: Jackson needs to learn how to solve a Rubik's cube and Mark's a more than willing teacher.(Or, I saw Real GOT7 season 2 ep 5, and voila.)
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 21
Kudos: 100





	Puzzled

**Author's Note:**

> This idea comes from a comment left by Layla Weatherspoon at the Real GOT7 episode mentioned in the summary. I've been binging Real GOT7 and I HAD to write this. Warning; it's short and disgustingly sweet. (I promised to put out some fluff after the Love Hurts situation) To those waiting on updates for my other stories, I promise I'm working on them, but my two-week break is over and I can't write a chapter a day anymore, more like a page if I'm lucky. So, please, don't lose hope. I apologize for the wait and can only pray this little thing I wrote will soothe your Markson soul.
> 
> Have fun!

So, maybe betting a week’s worth of doing the dishes and hinging it all on solving a Rubik’s cube in under ten minutes wasn’t Jackson’s smartest move. He’s supposed to prove it to BamBam tonight, and the sneaky nineteen-year-old invited all of their friends over to the dorm room to watch, which also means there’ll be plenty of dishes for Jackson to brood over afterward. Because at the rate he’s going, there’s no way he’ll solve _anything_ in the allotted time.

He groans as he spots the timer on his phone, slumping into his seat at the corner Starbucks just five minutes from their dorm. Jinyoung introduced him to it in the beginning of this year, and now Jackson finds himself slipping into a seat whenever he’s facing some sort of problem or a block on one of his assignments. The place is small but well-frequented, the large bustle of people providing Jackson with enough of an idea of human contact while he’s also able to put in earphones and fall into his own world.

Today, however, that world is bleak and dark and filled with a future of dirty dishes. The Rubik’s cube he’s been practicing with lies innocently on the table, Jackson slumped on the surface with his head on his arm and glaring at the piece of plastic. No matter how many times he watches those internet explanations, the information just doesn’t seem to stick or even make much sense. Jackson’s not dumb, far from it, but puzzles aren’t his strong suit.

Which is exactly why BamBam had chosen it as his challenge, and why Jackson had gone along with it, wanting to prove to his sneaky roommate that he most certainly _can_ do something that BamBam had dubbed ‘that easy’.

Six different colors all jumbled together glare back at Jackson as he sighs despondently into his arm when he realizes that, no, he can’t. Why is this his life?

“It’s Jackson, right?” A voice just makes it through Jackson’s music, and he blinks to focus back on the present instead of his gloomy thoughts. A pair of light jeans becomes visible behind the Rubik’s cube, leading to a black tank top underneath an open red-checkered shirt. Jackson squints when he reaches the face, seeing a toothy smile and soft, light-brown hair.

He drags himself up and pops out his wireless earphones, blinking unbelievingly at a face most would consider beautiful (Jackson would argue it’s stunning) and feeling the familiar burn of embarrassed recognition.

“Yeah,” he croaks, watching the other with trepidation. “You’re Mark.”

Mark giggles at that, biting his lip. It’s even more adorable up close and _holy fuck why is Mark Tuan talking to me!_

Because Jackson knows Mark Tuan. _Everyone_ knows Mark Tuan. He’s the heartthrob from the third-year engineering department that at least half the student body wants to date. Jackson’s only ever seen him at a handful of parties, sometimes during basketball games (or every game, because it’s a bunch of good-looking, sweaty guys in close-quarters and Jackson’s mighty gay, thank you), or the occasional glimpse on campus. But they’ve never engaged in actual conversation, never gone beyond the point of admirer and the admired.

Until now.

With a suddenly parched throat, Jackson sits up straight, attempting to hide his blush at having _Mark_ come up and say hi while he was sulking into a table-top.

“Hey-hey,” he stutters, the ability to ‘language’ promptly a foreign concept. He smiles painfully, already feeling the sweat gathering under his black fringe. Mark giggles again, then nods at the empty chair across from Jackson.

“Mind if I sit?”

The sound of twenty conversations falls away, reality freezing inside Jackson’s head as he quickly nods. At least three languages swim in demented circles in his head, and the last thing he wants to do is paint himself as deranged by spouting some sort of Frankenstein-language. With a grateful hum, Mark plops down, dropping his cup next to Jackson’s empty one, and the still pathetically unresolved Rubik’s cube.

It's at that moment Jackson realizes there are at least four unoccupied tables in his field of vision, the sound of drowned out music and thirty voices all rushing back into his head. The scent of something floral hits him when Mark leans closer to the table. It’s utterly intoxicating, and Jackson might have groaned a little.

_Mark Tuan is sitting at my table. Abort mission. Reboot. How to human?_

“You like puzzles too?” Mark smiles, eyes on Jackson’s no doubt red face as the older plucks up the Rubik’s cube. With effort he manages another nod, strangling the mess in his head back into a single language. Then he registers the question and grows warmer, stuffing his earphones in his pocket and grabbing his empty cup just to have something to do with his hands.

“No-no, I bet it- I mean, it’s a bet.” He clears his throat and tries for a smile, failing to stay focused when Mark’s expression goes a little confused. It brings out a soft pout that immediately dominates Jackson’s thoughts with how much he wants to kiss it. Oh good lord.

Mark bites his lower lip. “Ow,” he says somewhat cautious, carefully setting the Rubik’s cube back on the table. “Why would you bet over a Rubik’s cube?”

Jackson laughs away his nerves. It’s sudden and high and does nothing to erase the blood congregating in his cheeks, but by the end he can breathe just a tad easier. He’s still fiddling with the empty cup in his hands, alternating between glaring at the Rubik’s cube and staring lovingly at Mark’s soft hair, eye-smile, and lips. It takes a forced swallow before he can stop kissing Mark in his thoughts and focus back on the _real-life_ conversation he’s currently fucking up.

For someone claiming to be the master at being social, he’s failing quite epically at this.

“BamBam set me up,” he explains with a grimace, keeping his eyes on the table as it’s the safest option. “I have to fix a Rubik’s cube in under ten minutes tonight or do the dishes for a week.”

Avid beeping from a machine to the left distracts him, and he glances up, catching Mark’s thoughtful expression. The other is leaning his elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands. It’s more than Jackson can casually handle and he needs a second. Why is Mark _here?_

The other smiles again, pointed teeth just peeking out. “So, you’re here to practice?” His voice lilts in a way that suggests he already knows the answer causing Jackson to groan. Even _Mark_ is already laughing at him, albeit with his twinkling eyes.

“I’m doomed!” Jackson laments, slouching in his seat and staring at the ceiling, dropping the cup back on the table. “I _suck_ at puzzles!” He confesses with a whine, unable to keep up the pretense. After a moment of silence from Mark in which a child across the store starts screaming (or perhaps that’s Jackson’s pain manifesting in the real world), he carefully pulls himself together and peeks at Mark, finding two amused eyes and quite possibly the hints of a blush. Jackson squints at that, certain he’s imagining things.

He huffs. “You can laugh,” he mumbles at his lap, staring at his fingers fumbling with the hem of his sweater. “I know it’s dumb.”

Mark barely makes a sound as he moves, but suddenly he’s sitting right next to Jackson, chair shoved so close their hips are touching. The proximity is like electricity to his skin, his heart vaulting in his chest when Mark’s voice rings out right next to his ear.

“I’ll help,” the other says with a smile and Jackson stares at him like he’s lost his mind, body still stuck in fight or flight from the immense shock of finding Mark Tuan casually leaning into him.

“You’ll do what,” he asks feebly, one hand holding his heart as he’s still staring sideways at Mark. The older’s side profile is no joke, and the immense concentration in Mark’s brow is somehow hotter than Jackson’s oven. The little wrinkles are easy to spot from their current positions of touching thighs, Jackson’s hand already rising to smooth them out before he catches himself and snaps his head to the movement going on in front of him.

Mark’s face is a damn health hazard.

The Rubik’s cube is now in Mark's hands, fingers gently turning it over as he stares at it. “I’ll help you,” he repeats, twisting a few rows with ease. “Just-just lemme get back into this.” His eyes stay focused on the cube, fingers tapping little colored patches in thought as he mumbles words too soft to hear. He’s so immersed into the puzzle that even a middle-aged man bumping his shoulder with his hip doesn’t drag him out of it, though Jackson sends the perpetrator a death-glare just because.

Then he focuses back on Mark’s hands, utterly captivated by their nimble movements. The two rings on Mark’s right hand keep catching the overhead light, the Rubik’s cube looking cool with his superior technique solving it. Jackson can’t look away, risking a few glances up at Mark’s focused gaze and smiling wide when he catches the small sounds of joy coming from Mark when the older figures out a particularly stubborn move.

It's endearing and attractive and too much for Jackson’s face to do anything but become as hot as Mark’s general existence. For the moment, he doesn’t care, eyes glued to the careful ministrations of this cute boy next to him. He’s always had a crush on Mark, always found the older to be good-looking and kind, but seeing this new focused side is refreshing and pleasant. Before he knows it, Jackson is leaning in, almost resting his chin on Mark’s shoulder as he watches with wide eyes and mouth agape as the Rubik’s cube is solved bit by bit. After stilling his hands and glaring at the cube, Mark suddenly lets out a cheerful sound, smile lighting up his face, and his hands start spinning the cube faster than ever.

Jackson can only stare at Mark, something fluttering in his belly at the clear joy on the other’s face. He wants to rip the cube from Mark’s hands, wants to mess it all up again and hand it back just to keep seeing this soft smile. Mark’s happiness is addicting, and Jackson can’t help but smile back when the older flicks the last row into place and turns to Jackson, smile so wide his cheeks bunch up.

“I got it!” He yells happily, then falls into an apologetic expression when the people around them flinch. “Sorry,” he glances at Jackson with a helpless smile, “I kinda really love puzzles.”

It’s beyond endearing, and Jackson nods enthusiastically. “I do too!” he promises, because the joy on Mark’s face might be enough to make Jackson love _anything_ so long as it generates that smile. “I’m just not the best at them.” He grins guiltily at Mark’s beaming face, then drags his eyes away from the most enticing sight he’s seen in months when he realizes he’s _staring._

“Uhm,” he nods at the cube, scratching his neck. “You think you can tell me what you just did?”

Mark’s immediately excited, pressing even closer (Jackson’s thigh is on fire by now) and handing the cube to Jackson with a happy giggle.

“Here, you mess it up first, then I’ll show you how to fix it.”

The idea of spending more time with Mark this close has Jackson floating on something, his head full and silent at the same time. The fluttering in his belly gets worse when Mark’s hands brush against his and he’s positive there’s a dopey smile on his face. For the life of him, he can’t make it go away, nor does he want to.

“Okay,” he breathes, fingers shaking as he quickly wrestles the cube into random formations. There’s no way to go wrong when all he has to do is mess it up, but Mark’s eyes gliding over the motions of his hands add pressure to the entire situation. After some epic wrangling, he proudly presents the shuffled cube, quite literally beaming at Mark in the hopes of having done it right. He gets a giggle for his effort, Mark’s eyes shooting to his before dropping back to the cube. There’s definitely a blush on the older’s cheeks now, and Jackson thinks that maybe, just maybe, Mark’s random pick of tables wasn’t so random.

A guy can dream, right?

“So, the center never changes color, okay?” Mark begins his explanation, fingers pointing out the parts he’s talking about and lightly brushing Jackson’s hands in the process. It sends shivers down Jackson’s spine, his concentration both heightened and worsened by having Mark as his teacher.

Mark starts pointing out patterns. “You have to make crosses,” he glances up at Jackson through his fringe, possibly catching a stumped face and red cheeks, then looks back down again while biting his lip. In the next moment, his hands are resting on Jackson’s, arms practically in Jackson’s lap and sides flush together. He starts to slowly go through the motions as he explains them, nudging Jackson’s hands into cooperation.

It's a scene from a fairytale, from a daydream, from something that was _never_ supposed to happen, meaning Jackson can’t fight his content smile even if he wanted to and he eventually drops his chin on Mark’s shoulder just because he can. The butterflies zoom in his chest as if on crack, wedding bells chiming in the distance as he barely refrains from nuzzling into Mark’s warm body. The flowery cologne is stronger now, blending with the smell of coffee and making Jackson’s head spin.

He misses most of what Mark says, eyes glue to their hands fixing the Rubik’s cube, the pressure of Mark’s grip on his fingers tightening his gut in pleasant ways. By the end, when the cube is fixed, Mark doesn’t take his hands away. He drops his head on Jackson’s, content sigh coming out. Then he sniggers and Jackson goes warm all over again.

“Did you catch any of that?” Mark chuckles, the sound humming into Jackson’s head with the way they’re basically on top of each other. Jackson’s smile is still going strong, convinced he read the signals right when Mark keeps playing with Jackson’s fingers even when there’s no more need to.

“Not a thing,” he confesses happily, eyes still on their hands and Rubik’s cube forgotten in Jackson’s lap. He’s trying to form a heart with Mark’s fingers but the older is giggling as he keeps straightening out the fingers Jackson just got in place. Jackson presses closer, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead. “Guess you’ll have to teach me again,” he lips his licks, feeling Mark hum in recognition, then bites the proverbial anxious bullet. “How about tomorrow?”

Mark giggles, his whole body shaking with the joy. “Yeah, Jackson,” he hums, “we’ll go on a second date tomorrow.”

Which has Jackson choking on his spit, dragging in a croaky breath even as Mark finally leans away to throw his head back in laughter. They uncurl, their hands remaining intertwined, giving Jackson a perfect view of Mark laughing the most infectious laugh known to man. Within seconds Jackson joins in, leaning into Mark and feeling tears in his eyes from the joy threatening to burst out of his chest.

“You set me up too,” Jackson sniggers, leaning back and smiling at Mark’s toothy grin. “You’re so sneaky!”

Mark shrugs, not even denying it. “I saw an opportunity and I took it.” He bites his lip with wide and happy eyes.

And fuck it all, Jackson immediately dissolves into all the gooey feelings when presented with a blushing and coy Mark. He squeezes the warm hand still in his. “All because of a Rubik’s cube.”

Mark beams at him, eyes twinkling and cheeks red. “A Rubik’s cube and a cute, clueless boy.” He laughs again, never letting go of Jackson.

(Jackson ends up losing the bet, but feels he won something far more important. He eventually buys a tiny Rubik’s cube keychain, explaining to Mark on their fourth date how it’s for good luck.

“It got me you, didn’t it?” He adds cheekily, bringing out Mark’s laughter. The sound is easily one of Jackson’s favorites in the world, and all of it happened because of a puzzle.)


End file.
